Kathryn Lee Cook

Former Mississippi resident Kathryn L. Cook was granted her angel wings on Thursday, February 8th, 2024, in Meridian, MS.

She was born on June 16th, 1951, in Milwaukee, Wisconsin and graduated from Whitnall High School in Greenfield, Wisconsin in 1969.

She is survived by her husband of 43 years, Thomas Cook, daughters; Mindy Dunn (Brian) of Philadelphia, MS and Jennifer Earl Foss (Kyle) of California, grandchildren; Spencer Manues, Skyler Manues, Harper Dunn, and Lyra Foss, and a great-grandchild, Luna Manues, sisters; Peggy Spanbauer and Cheryl Burlingame, brother; Mark Cis, and numerous nieces and nephews.

She was preceded in death by her parents; Gertrude and David Cis of Hales Corners, Wisconsin.

At Kathy's request, no services will be held.

Online condolences may be expressed at robertbarhamffh.com.

To Remember Me

The day will come when my body will lie upon a white sheet neatly tucked under four corners of a mattress located in a hospital busily occupied with the living and the dying.

At a certain moment a doctor will determine that my brain has ceased to function and that, for all intents and purposes, my life has stopped.

When that happens, do not attempt to instill artificial life into my body by the use of a machine. And don't call this my deathbed. Let it be called the Bed of Life, and let my body be taken from it to help others lead fuller lives.

Give my sight to a man who has never seen a sunrise, a baby's face or love in the eyes of a woman.

Give my heart to a person whose own heart has pain.

Give my blood to the teen-ager who was pulled from the wreckage of his car, so that he might live to see his grandchildren play.

Give my kidneys to one who depends on a machine to exist from week to week.

Take my bones, every muscle, every fiber and nerve in my body and find a way to make a crippled child walk.

Explore every corner of my brain.

Take my cells, if necessary, and let them grow so that, someday, a speechless boy will shout at the crack of a bat and a deaf girl will hear the sound of rain against her windows.

Burn what is left of me and scatter the ashes to the winds to help the flowers grow.

If you must bury something, let it be my faults, my weaknesses and all my prejudice against my fellow man.

Give my sins to the devil. Give my soul to God. If, by chance, you wish to remember me, do it with a kind deed or word to someone who needs you.

If you do all I have asked, I will live forever.

By Robert N. Test